


Your Lips Are Sugar Sweet

by AliceSchuyler



Series: Keeping It Together [3]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Caring Carlos, Hurt TK Strand, Hurt/Comfort, Hypoglycemia, M/M, Seizures, These boys make my heart sing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29081238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceSchuyler/pseuds/AliceSchuyler
Summary: TK is irritable, anxious and unsteady. Everyone thinks it's because Carlos is away... but what if it's worse than that?
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Series: Keeping It Together [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132163
Comments: 9
Kudos: 266





	Your Lips Are Sugar Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Same as before - I have very little medical training, and this scenario is kinda far fetched, but sort of possible? Take it with a grain of salt I guess.

TK looked at the antibiotic cream he had been faithfully using for nearly a week, feeling betrayed by how unwell it made him feel, despite the good it was supposed to be doing. He found himself with a large burn on his arm after a particularly harrowing job, and found himself in the ER a few hours later, getting the wound debrided and dressed, before being prescribed antibiotics to ensure he didn’t get an infection from the burn. It was healing nicely, but that didn’t make TK feel any better. His stomach grumbled, and he shoved the half used tube back into his locker, slamming it shut. He sped down the stairs to the kitchen, determined to find a snack to make himself feel better. Carlos was out of town on a task for APD, and TK missed him and his cuddles, wishing he was back soon so he could sleep. He slammed the cupboard door closed, and moved onto the fridge. Judd heard him from the garage, and sauntered in casually.

“Whatcha looking for TK?” he asked easily, leaning on the bench.

“Something to eat. There’s like, nothing here though,” answered TK, irritated. He closed the fridge door, resting his head on the cool metal for a moment. Judd opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the blaring alarm. He scrambled out of the kitchen, TK hot on his heels, grabbing his jacket and helmet before swinging into the truck.

“We’ve got a car accident on Main and 4th, three car collision,” reported Owen. Paul pulled the engine out of the firehouse, barrelling down the street and out towards the accident. TK felt his hands shake, and Judd tapped his shoulder.

“You okay TK?” asked Judd.

“Yeah, it’s probably the adrenaline. It’s all good, I’ll be right,” replied TK, watching Austin turn into a blur as they drove past. Paul pulled them up to the scene moments later, the EMS team not far behind them. TK climbed out of the truck, feeling his head swirl, and gripped onto the truck tightly for a moment, trying to regain his equilibrium.

_What was wrong with him?_

“TK, can you grab the spreaders for me please?” called Judd.

“On it!” TK pulled the hydraulic spreaders from the side of the truck, slamming the door shut. A wave of vertigo rolled over him again, and he stumbled briefly, before regaining his footing and running the requested tool over to Judd. Nancy was working with Judd to reassure their patient, and TK stood, watching dumbly.

“TK? TK, what are you doing? Go and help Strickland!” barked Owen. TK looked at Owen, confusion across his face, before he glanced around, spotting Paul. He started over to Paul, feeling his legs turn to lead underneath him. He could see Marjan and Mateo yelling, but couldn’t hear them over the rushing sound in his ears. His knees hit the bitumen, and he put his hands out to catch him before he faceplanted. His whole body was trembling, and he felt nauseated and anxious. He listed sideways, the ground feeling more supportive than his own arms.

_He wished Carlos were here._

“TK? TK, talk to me, what’s going on?” asked Owen. He started to feel across TK’s shoulders, trying to find an injury, an explanation for what had happened, what was happening. TK felt his stomach muscles spasm, and he started heaving. “Shit!” Own rolled TK into the recovery position, pulling off his helmet, fairly confident he didn’t have a head injury hiding underneath. He glanced up, hoping a paramedic would be free, but Tommy, Nancy and Jack were already pre-occupied with looking after patients, waiting on ambulances to assist at the scene and to take the burden off the triage teams. He pulled his radio off his shoulder, clicking it on.

“Marjan! Paul! I need you over here now, grab a medi-kit from the truck,” ordered Owen. 

“Copy Cap,” replied Marjan. He watched as her and Paul sprinted for them, Paul peeling off to grab a medi-kit from the truck. “What’s going on Cap?” asked Marjan.

“I don’t know. He was just… standing, and then he wasn’t. I’d get Vega or one of the other EMS teams to help, but they’ve got their hands full,” explained Owen.

“TK? Talk to me, what’s going on,” asked Paul, joining the group. He dropped the medi kit near TK’s legs, and crouched down next to him.

“I’m dizzy. I feel sick, I can’t… I can’t think straight,” breathed TK. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and gravity was suctioning him to the warm bitumen.

“Maybe it’s the burn on his arm?” queried Marjan. Paul helped divest TK of his jacket, and unwound the bandages carefully, checking the wound.

“It looks fine, it doesn’t look inflamed or anything. If anything it’s healing really well,” said Paul, inspecting the wound carefully. TK retched again, but with nothing in his stomach, only bile came up.

“No sign of a head wound. His skull has no deformities, no blood, nothing. What on earth is going on?” asked Marjan, rocking back on her heels. TK started trembling, the fine tremors making his teeth chatter.

“I’m supposed to meet Carlos. Are we done?” asked TK.

“What? TK, we’re on a callout, and Carlos is out of town. You’re not meeting him until tomorrow night, when he gets back into town,” replied Owen, brow furrowed.

“Wait, no, I’m running late. I can’t decide what to wear,” replied TK, pushing Paul’s hands away.

“Confused, disoriented. I’d say head injury Cap, but he has no mechanism for a head injury. TK, did you take something? What are you on?” asked Paul. TK shook his head vehemently.

“I’m clean. No drugs, no alcohol. I’m not on anything, except antibiotic cream for this stupid burn,” replied TK. He struggled upright, pushing away his team. “I need to go, I’m running late,” he whispered. His knees gave out again, and he groaned as the ground rushed up to meet him. Marjan and Paul caught him before he could faceplant, and he giggled.

“He’s gotta be on something Cap. There’s no other explanation for this. It’s been too long since the last head injury to be that and he hasn’t received a new one. In fact, he was fine as far as we were aware,” said Paul.

“I feel sick,” announced TK. He retched, heaving down the front of his uniform.

“We can at least get fluids into him, get him to the hospital, see what they have to say?” suggested Paul.

“I… I feel funny,” admitted TK. His legs went from underneath him, and Marjan and Paul lowered him to the ground, Owen behind him, propping him up. Judd and Mateo joined them as well, concerned for their team mate.

“Funny how TK?” asked Marjan. He looked at his hand, watching it twitch like it had a mind of its own.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve never seen my hand do that before though.” He felt like he was floating out of his body, and Paul watched his face go slack, eyes unfocused.

“Down. Down, down, put something under his head, get him down!” ordered Paul. TK felt his body manhandled into the recovery position, something soft under his head, and knew straight why the he was feeling so strange, but yet so familiar. His body tensed up, bladder control lost and his eyes rolled back into his head. His back bowed and he shook violently, blood and saliva flowing from his mouth, his chattering teeth biting the inside of his cheek.

“We need Tommy. Or a doctor Cap, I have no idea what’s going on, but he was cleared by the neurologist months ago, no seizures, nothing on his brain scans,” said Marjan, breathless as she held her friend in the recovery position. Owen scrubbed a hand over his face, before sighing.

“Mateo, Paul, go see if you can help Tommy, let her know we have a medical emergency involving TK, and see if you two can swap out with her,” ordered Owen. Mateo and Paul split away from the group, leaving Marjan to manage TK. Judd dropped to his knees behind TK, helping keep him in the recovery position. Marjan looked terrified, and Owen didn’t blame her. There was no reason for this to be happening, none that they could see, and he was just as petrified on the inside. Tommy jogged over to them, joining the group.

“Talk to me,” she demanded.

“No sign of head injury, is showing clear signs of confusion, is unable to stand on his own, has been vomiting, and appeared to have a complex partial seizure before the tonic clonic one, which started about forty seconds ago,” reported Marjan.

“Is he on anything? Tylenol, antibiotics, anything we should know about?” asked Tommy, watching as the seizure waned. She pulled out a penlight, checking TK’s pupils.

“He said he’s on some antibiotic cream at the moment, for the burn on his arm?” replied Marjan cautiously.

“But Paul checked the wound, he reckoned it looked fine,” added Owen.

“Anyone know when he last ate anything?”

“Uh, he was at breakfast this morning when we started shift, but he missed lunch, and he was looking for something to eat just before the callout came through, but I don’t think he actually ate anything,” replied Judd. Tommy ripped open her bag, looking for a blood glucose meter.

“What are you thinking?” asked Owen, curious and concerned.

“Hypoglycaemia. You said he was using an antibiotic cream, do you remember which one?” she asked.

“It was… sul… sulfa something. I’m sorry, I don’t know,” admitted Owen. Tommy pricked TKs index finger with a lancet, squeezing a drop of blood out onto the testing strip. She waited impatiently, jiggling on the spot as the meter worked through its analysis. As soon as it beeped she looked at the reading, before dropping the machine into her bag.

“Shit. Someone radio ahead to the hospital, let them know that we’ll need an endocrinologist on standby. He’s low Cap, so low the machine can’t even give me a reading. You’re sure he’s not diabetic?” asked Tommy, deftly inserting an IV into TK’s hand and starting fluids.

“100% positive, he’s not diabetic,” replied Owen.

“Then it’s most likely a reaction to the sulfa drugs. It’s unusual, but not completely unheard of. Trouble is, I can’t treat him in the field because he’s not a diabetic, so we have to keep him together so we can get him to the hospital.” Nancy and Jack jogged over to Tommy and the little gathering around TK. Tommy glanced up at them and pointed towards their rig, and they headed back, grabbing the gurney.

“Wait, you’re saying he’s reacting like this because he’s got low blood sugar?” asked Marjan incredulously. Tommy nodded, and moved aside to allow Jack and Nancy to get in with the gurney.

“We need to get him to hospital as soon as possible, so we can get him treated before it causes long lasting damage,” replied Tommy quietly. Nancy and Jack nodded, and transferred TK onto the gurney carefully, leaving him on his side in the recovery position. Nancy secured an oxygen mask onto TK’s face, pulling the straps tight and turning the flow up high.

“Aright, locked and loaded, let’s get him on his way. Anyone riding with us?” asked Tommy as the team stood up. Owen and Judd looked at each other, eyeing the other off before coming to an agreement.

“I’ll go. Cap is going to follow us in the engine with the rest of the crew, and he’ll call Carlos, let him know what’s happening,” said Judd, determined.

“Let’s get going, TK is running out of time.” Nancy and Jack wheeled the gurney towards the ambulance, loading him into the back. Tommy climbed in after him, and Judd joined her in the back. Nancy sat up the front while Jack drove, filling in paperwork so they could admit TK as quickly as possible when they arrive.

“Hospital says the endocrinologist is on standby with a neuro and trauma team, just in case,” reported Nancy.

“Is he going to be okay?” asked Judd, taking TK’s hand in his own as they started moving, sirens on, lights flashing.

“It’s not hard to treat hypoglycaemia Judd, but we can’t treat it in the field unless he’s a diagnosed diabetic. There’s too much risk, too much that can go wrong, and we don’t want to push him too far the other way. So we have to treat with fluids and get him to a hospital so they can treat him, and make him feel better,” replied Tommy. TK stirred a little, looking confused. “Hey, TK, can you tell me where you are?” asked Tommy gently. TK shook his head, brows furrowing as he looked around, trying to work out where he was.

“No. Where’s Carlos, is he okay? Is he hurt too?” asked TK, confusion clouding his eyes.

“No, no TK, Carlos wasn’t in an accident or anything. You’re just a little unwell, that’s all, and we’re taking you to the hospital, make sure you’re okay,” replied Judd, trying to reassure TK. TK noticed the IV line in his arm, and his face crumbled, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“No, oh, no, I’m so sorry, I tried to stay clean, I really did, I’m sorry,” rambled TK incoherently. Judd looked at Tommy in alarm.

“What’s he on about?”

“His brain is struggling with the effects of the low blood sugar, so it’s coming up with scenarios to try and protect him from what’s happening. We’re almost at the hospital, they’ll be able to help him there, and he’ll start feeling better.” Jack pulled into the ambulance bay at the hospital, reversing up to the main doors. He turned off the vehicle and pulled on the handbrake, and Nancy jumped out of the front seat, coming around the back to open the ambulance doors. As they did, TK started seizing again, blood starting to run freely down his face after he smashed his nose on the raised side of the bed.

“TK Strand, possibly hypoglycaemic event, has just started seizing for the second time,” reported Tommy. Judd pressed himself against the side of the ambulance, allowing the medical professionals inside the van to get TK out. Judd watched as they wheeled him inside and into a trauma assessment room. Tommy laid a gentle hand on his arm as he observed the medical team moving TK over to a hospital bed, hooking him up to monitors as the seizure abated.

“Vega, how low did you say his blood sugar was?” asked one of the doctors.

“I couldn’t get a reading on the field kit. It said it was low though,” replied Tommy.

“Alright, we want a glucagon injection now, in the thigh, let’s get this blood sugar level up and make him feel a bit better,” ordered the doctor. A nurse pulled an orange glucagon kit out of the drawer, mixing together the drug before injecting it into his thigh. Nurses clipped on a pulse-oxy meter, and hooked up a fresh IV. Another one cleaned the blood from TK’s face, checking his nose, and deeming it not broken.

“No narcotics. He doesn’t do opiates,” murmured Judd. A nurse overheard him, and picked up TK’s chart, making a note on the paper. “Will… will he be okay?” asked Judd, unsure.

“He will, we’ve just got to keep his blood sugar up. Vega, dispatch said something about sulfa drugs?” asked the doctor.

“He’s got an antibiotic cream, for a burn on his forearm. It’s a sulfa type drug, and I know that there have been some studies on possible fasting hypoglycaemia events. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, missed lunch, and didn’t get an afternoon snack or anything due to the MVA on Main and 4th,” replied Tommy.

“Ah, that makes sense. Nurse, make a note on his records, I’d like to avoid prescribing sulfa drugs in the future,” said the endocrinologist. The neurologist stepped in to do his checks, shining a light into TK’s eyes to check his pupil response. TK started to stir, confusion evident.

“What’s going on?” he asked warily. Judd stepped in, catching TK’s hand in his much larger one.

“Hey brother, you’re okay. You weren’t very well, so we bought you to the hospital so we could get you all fixed up, okay? You’re fine, and your Dad is calling Carlos now so he knows where you are, okay?” TK nodded, eyes drifting closed, assured that everything was okay. Judd released his hand, and moved out of the way as nurses flurried around to move TK’s bed.

“We’re admitting him for observation, until we’re sure the hypo has resolved. He’ll be moved upstairs, you can sit with him up there if you like?” offered the nurse. Judd nodded, just as the other members of the 126 came barrelling inside.

“Is he okay?” demanded Owen.

“Calm down Cap, he’s fine. They’re actually going to move him upstairs, admit him overnight. He’s doing well,” explained Judd. Owen watched as his son was wheeled past, oxygen mask still secured on his face, the blood still staining his face and neck from his crushed nose.

“Come on, we’re not doing any good here. Let’s get the trucks back to the house and cleaned up, and then we can come back and keep TK company, okay?” suggested Judd. Owen nodded, motioning for his team to leave.

“Sounds like a good idea. Come on, let’s roll out and get packed up.”

* * *

TK woke up feeling distinctly nauseous, and gagged as he tried to sit up, his stomach roiling.

“Woah there tiger, hang on,” said a warm, familiar voice. A basin was thrust under TK’s chin, and he lost his fight with his stomach, vomiting into the bucket. Tears streaked down his cheeks as he struggled to breathe and bring his body back under control, feeling unwell and out of sorts. His stomach eased up and he fell back against the pillows, a thin sheen of sweat starting to bead across his forehead. The basin was removed, and a cool cloth was brushed across his skin, wiping away the grit and some of the discomfort. TK relaxed as he started to feel a little better, cracking open his eyes to see Carlos, hovering over him.

“I… I thought you weren’t back until… tomorrow night?” asked TK, confused.

“I’d decided to come back early, to surprise you. Turns out you tried to surprise me instead,” replied Carlos gently, wiping TK’s face down, careful of the injured nose and the nasal cannula.

“I’m still not sure what happened,” admitted TK wearily

“That burn you texted me about? Turns out the cream you were using on it actually dropped your blood sugar, and because Judd said you skipped lunch and eating before the callout, and then your body crashed on you. Hard. Tommy says you had a partial seizure as well as two tonic clonic seizures, brought on by the hypo, and you were so confused,” explained Carlos.

“I remember some flashes. Some confusion about where you were, and I remember being sick, a lot,” added TK.

“You scared a lot of people out there today. You should tell people if you’re not feeling well,” replied Carlos.

“I just thought I was irritable because I hadn’t seen you for a few days, and I missed you. I knew I missed lunch, but I’d fallen asleep in the showers, I was so tired,” answered TK. Carlos caught TK’s hand in his own, and leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“I’m sorry you had to experience that babe,” whispered Carlos.

“Have they told you when I get to escape yet? I just want to go home and cuddle with you,” whined TK.

“They’re keeping you in until you pass three blood glucose levels. At the moment you’re a bit too high, that’s why you’re not feeling well. But I promise Tyler, as soon as you’re well enough to come home we’ll have a date night together, watching some ridiculous rom com and eating cliché date foods, and snuggling on the couch together, okay?” promised Carlos. TK closed his eyes, tears leaking down his cheeks as he realised how much he’d missed Carlos and his tender touch the last few days. “TK? Tyler, what’s going through your head?”

“I just feel… I just feel unwell, and I just want to go home. And I missed you. I don’t want to be alone here,” admitted TK. Carlos settled next to TK’s bed, resting his head on his hand, and looking up at his partner, still holding TK’s hand in his.

“Who said you’ll be alone?"

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr and harass me to write more - @AliceSchuyler


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